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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 




Flowers of various Shapes, and Fruits of different Forms. 



Bunch of Wild Flowers 



^or ti^e Cl^tlDren 



BY 

IDA PRENTICE VVHITCOMB 



NEW YORK 
ANSON D. R- RANDOLPH & COMPANY 

(IXCORPORATED) 

182 Fifth Avenue 



""' MAY -s^; 1894", 

-2^ 



uy^s' 



Copyright, 189Jf, 
By Anson D. F. Randolph & Co. 

(INCORPORATED.) 



John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A. 



NOTE. 



JOHN BURROUGHS says, '' Nothing is be- 
neath notice ; and the closer we look, the 
more we shall learn about the ways and doings 
of nature." 

Very true is this of the flowers, for the study 
of them never fails to be rewarding. 

Children are always attracted by their per- 
fume and bright colors^ and delight to gather 
them ; but often only to scatter them thought- 
lessly in their path ; for it is difficult to give the 
closer intelligent look, because the long names 
and classifications of Botany are bewildering. 

In the following pages, I have arranged a 
tiny bunch of the commonest wild flowers found 
daily in our summer rambles, and have endeav- 



IV NOTE. 

ored to tell their stories and to trace their family 
resemblances, in a way which may prove simple 
and suggestive. Such talks have brought me 
many times into touch with the children, tempt- 
ing them to examine more closely the curious 
habits and exquisite dress of the flowers. 

Of course it has been necessary to use a few 
botanical terms, but there has been no attempt 
to present the subject in a scientific way. If to 
any child these chapters introduce new and 
attractive flower friends, or make old ones yet 
more familiar, in garden, field, or wood, and 
then kindle a desire in later years to interpret 
more fully the mysteries of the Land of Flora, 

my aim will be fulfilled. 

I, P. W. 

Brooklyn, N. Y. 



A SUMMER SCHOOL. 

Mrs, J^une is ready for school ; 
Presents her kind regards, 
And for all her measures and rule 
Refers to the following Card: — 

To parents and fiends, Mrs, J^une, 
Of the firm of Sununer and Sun, 
Announces the opening of her School^ 
Established in the year One, 

An unlimited number received ; 
There is nothing at all to pay ; 
All that is asked is a merry heart, 
And ti7ne enough to be gay. 

The lectures are thus arranged : — 
Professor Cherry-Tree 
Will lecture to the Climbing Class ; 
Terms of instruction, — free. 



VI A SUMMER SCHOOL. 

Professor De- Forest Spring 
Will take the class on Drink, 
And the class in Titillation, 
Sage Mr, Bobolink, 

Young Mr, Ox- Eye Daisy 
Will demonstrate each day 
Ofi Botany, on native plants, 
And the properties of hay. 

Miss Nature the class in Fun 

(A charming class to teach) ; 

And the Swinging Class and the Bird's-Nest Class, 

Miss Hickory and Miss Beech, 

And the Sleepy Class at night. 

And the Dinner Class at noon, 

And the Fat and Laugh Class, and Roses Class, 

They fall to Mrs, yune. 

And she hopes he<^ little fiends 
Will be punctual as the Sun ; 
For the term, alas I is very short. 
And she wants them, every o?ie, 

Susan Coolidge. 



CONTENTS. 



Chapter Page 

I. Flower Families 9 

II. Definitions 13 

III. Buttercups 21 

IV. Peas and Clover 29 

V. Violets 37 

VI. Roses and Rose Legends 45 

VII. Some Practical Blossoms 59 

VIII. Curious Things about Plants ... 69 

IX. Green Things Growing 81 

X. Only a Bean 91 

XI. Dorothy's Promise, and how she 

KEPT it 99 

XII. One Little Dandelion 109 

XIII. The Tiger-Lily's Mission 123 

XIV. A Closing Sermon. Jack in the 

Pulpit ...,., 133 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



Page 

Flowers of Various Shapes, and Fruits of 

Different Forms Frontispiece. 

Illustration of the Farts of a Flower . . 12 

ranunculace.e . . - 20 

LEGUMINOSiE 28 

V1OLACE.E 36 

Rosacea 44 

Some Practical Blossoms. 1 56 

Some Practical Blossoms. II 57 

Some Plants with Curious Habits .... 68 

Leaves of Different Shapes and Kinds . . 78 

Roots, Stems, and Branches . 79 

The Seed and its Plantlet 90 

Horse-chestnut Bud 98 

CoMPOSiTiE 108 

LiLIACEiE , 122 

Arace^e ....0.000 132 



A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS 

FOR THE CHILDREN. 



CHAPTER FIRST. 

FLOWER FAMILIES. 

/^N bright summer days, in every country 
ramble, we may discern new beauties, 
and learn about the flowers. 

It is true that we already know many of them 
by their common names ; but until we study 
their dress, habits, and associations, they are 
comparative strangers to us. So we take as 
our text, that flowers, like children, belong to 
separate families; and as children in the same 



lO A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

household often look and dress alike, so do 
the flowers. 

We compare a tulip and a lily, and trace 
the resemblance, or a sweet pea and a bit of 
wistaria; but we know at once that tulips and 
sweet peas cannot be related. 

Flower families are large, and resemblances 
among their members are easily traced. Their 
histories, too, are very brief, and there are no 
two just alike. Leaf, bud, and flower appear, 
next the ripened fruit, holding seed for a new 
year's planting; and then the story begins over 
again. Let us try to know more about the 
flowers, and so more fully enjoy the loveliness 
that graces the roadside, or that peeps from 
the woody cleft. 



Perianth 



Section of typi- 
cal flower, with 
polysepalous ca- 
lyx, or cup ; poly- 
petalous corolla, 
or crown ; three 
stamens, with fila- 
ments and an- 
thers ; one pistil, 
with ovary, style, 
and five stio-mas. 




Section of flovrer, with nu- 
merous stamens and nu- 
merous pistils ; the latter 
held in its calyx, or cup. 



Stamen, throwing pollen 
upon the pistil. 



Illustration of the Parts of a Flower. 



CHAPTER SECOND. 

DEFINITIONS. 

T)OTANICAL names are difficult to learn, 
but we must use just a few of them, in 
order to describe properly the rose, lily, violet, 
buttercup, and other flowers contained in our 
little bunch. 

The rose is called perfect^ for it has all the 
parts possessed by any flower. A green calyx, 
or cup, with pointed sepals, holds its bright 
corolla, which is divided into petals, — not rose- 
leaves, as children sometimes call them. 

This corolla, or crown of the flower, is often 
very gay in color. The lily is enclosed only by 
a perianth, and hence we may rightly term it 
imperfect. This perianth, when not of spotless 

2 



14 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

whiteness, is often dotted and striped in gor- 
geous colors. 

Yet within the corolla of the rose and the 
perianth of the lily, often so showy in exterior, 
are contained the needful working organs, — 
stamens and pistils. The former have thread- 
like filaments and yellow anthers. The anthers 
are little bags, full even to bursting of yellow 
pollen, — once called by a child *'the bread and 
milk of the flowers,'' and then she added, ** be- 
cause it's what they must eat to grow." The 
rose has many stamens, while the lily has but 
few; but those of the latter are so large, and 
their anthers so full of pollen, that it seems as if 
they would give out enough to satisfy the most 
hungry of flowers. Within the stamens are 
found the pistils. In the rose they consist of a 
quantity of tiny, pouch-shaped sacs, each hold- 
ing a single ovule ; but in the lily there is but 
one pistil, with three distinct divisions, — ovary, 



DEFINITIONS. 1 5 

Style, and stigma. The lower, pod-like part, the 
ovary, holds the tiny ovules, in each of which is 
concealed the true life of a future plant. Like 
treasures safely hidden away, they lie carefully 
protected in their little boxes, in the very heart 
of the flower. 

From the ovary extends the slender style, 
and this broadens at the top into an open- 
mouthed stigma, which usually is moistened by 
a sweet, clammy juice. 

It is interesting to watch the work of the 
different flower-organs. Ovules must be fed, in 
order to ripen into seeds. To this end, pollen 
from a ripened stamen must, in some way, fall 
upon a stigma, be digested there, and send 
down through the style a juice which touches 
and fertilizes the ovules in the ovary, that 
in time they may become seeds. 

Very frequently stamens are so placed that 
they may not throw over the pollen; but for 



l6 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

doing this, Nature has provided other means. 
Sometimes it is carried by the careless winds, 
and sometimes by thoughtless insects, — both 
doing an important work, of which they know 
nothing. Often, too, the flower prefers the pol- 
len of another flower, and by it is nourished ; 
and insects are busy carrying it to and fro 
among the various blossoms, — *' the commerce 
of the flowers," as one has well described it. 
Flowers, in return, secreting in their dainty cups 
little glands of sweet nectar, are useful to the 
insect. Thrusting its head into the heart of the 
flower, the little creature unconsciously strikes 
the stamens, powdering its body all over with 
pollen while sipping its own dinner, and then off* 
it flies to the next blossom, and there, dusting 
the pollen over the stigma, it again greedily 
seeks more honey. Insects are unerring little 
messengers, never going to the wrong flower 
family. 



DEFINITIONS. 1/ 

The story of the mission of a single flower is 
very brief, but how often and how silently it is 
repeated in just one summer ! The bright 
corolla or more widely spread perianth soon 
fades, stamens distribute their pollen and dry 
away, sun and moisture do their work, and we 
have the ripened fruits, in which ovules have 
become seeds. 

It is interesting to study flowers in blossom 
time, when stamens and pistils are feeding 
and growing; and then we almost forget about 
them until, in the autumn, we gather pods, or 
berries, or luscious fruits. The great downy 
peach holds its one seed in a pretty box with 
strong-ribbed walls ; the plum encloses its treas- 
ure in a plainer case ; roses form red globes, 
and so firm are they that even winter snows 
and winds do not break them. 

The poppy provides itself with a box, with 
a beautifully carved lid, and it is full to the 



1 8 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

brim of brown seeds. The chestnut-tree stores 
her treasures in the burr, the oak in the acorn, 
and beech-trees rustle with their hard-shell 
caskets; and autumn with chilling frosts opens 
them all. 

The careless wild flower must do its own plant- 
ing, and Nature makes it ready for its work, often 
by a curious elastic arrangement, by w^hich the 
seed-boxes burst at the proper time, and then 
the seeds are scattered. 

. Some seeds are provided with wing-like scales, 
and others with a hairy pappus, under which 
they float away under a silken canopy; they 
alight, and plant themselves, seemingly at 
random. 

So appear, in beautiful order, flower, fruit, and 
seed ; and then Mother Nature does not close 
the book, but only turns the leaf, and continues 
the marvellous and unending story of growth. 




Buttercup, ^^f P^*^^^ ^^^^^ 
^ honey-sac at 
its base. 




Anemone, with a bunch of 
its ripe carpels, or fruits. 





Hepatica. 



Columbine. 



Ranunculaceae. 



CHAPTER THIRD. 

BUTTERCUPS. 

" Who does not recollect the hours 
When luring words and praises 
Were lavished on those showy flowers, 
Buttercups and daisies ! " 

^T^HUS sings the English poetess; and echo- 
ing her words, we will first examii e- 
one of the blossoms that ** knits so strong i 
tie with childhood's love/' 

The buttercup belongs to the Ranunculaceae 
family of flowers. Ranunculus is a long word, 
but it means only ''a little frog," and it ii so 
named because some of the blossoms live in 
frog-ponds. 

We love to see the buttercups dancing about 
us in the summer field ; no bouquet of wild 



22 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

flowers seems complete without them; and 
gathered in a bunch, they are almost as beau- 
tiful as a mass of golden daffodils. The butter- 
cup has but few petals, and at the base of each 
one is a tiny, three-cornered honey sac. Insects 
can find this more easily than children, and 
from it they suck sweet nectar. Within the 
petals are many stamens, and forming the 
centre of the flower are many one-ovuled, 
pouch-shaped pistils. The buttercup's life is 
very short, for the petals soon fade, the sta- 
mens give their pollen, and the pistils ripen 
into a bunch of dry, one-seeded fruits called 
*' akenes.'* 

This stylish little flower has a quaint relative 
in the old-fashioned larkspur, the pride of the 
country garden. Its many stamens and pistils 
are aided in their fertilizing work by the insects. 
The honey, as if to make the insect earn its 
food, is placed in the ends of the long 



BUTTERCUPS. 23 

spurs of the petals ; and so, while struggling 
to get it, the little creature dusts itself all 
over with pollen, and in helping itself feeds 
the ovules. 

"The clematis, the fragrant flower 
That boasts the name of ' virgin's bower,' " 

is also a Ranunculus ; the word means a tendril, 
or climbing plant. Its fruits are also akenes; 
and, fledged with feathery tails, they take flight 
in the wind, and plant themselves anywhere. 

If we had not chosen the familiar buttercup 
for our typical flower, we might first have 
described the anemones, as they give the ear- 
liest greeting to spring, — 

" The coy anemone, that ne'er uncloses her lips, 
Until they 're blown on by the wind." 

The word *^ anemone " comes from a Greek 
word meaning '* wind," from the idea that the 
flowers open only when the wind blows. April 



24 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

woods are soft with them, in their delicate 
pink and white beauty ; and near them we find 
the purple hepaticas, so frail that they fade 
at our tenderest touch. 

A strong resemblance is traced among all 
the blossoms of this family of flowers. They 
have but few sepals and petals, and sometimes 
one set is wanting; but there are always many 
stamens and pistils, and in fruit they become 
either pods, akenes, or berries. 

In closing our sketch, w^e may learn from 
the buttercup the lesson of contentment so 
wisely taught by Sarah Orne Jewett : — 

" Down in a field, one day in June, 
The flowers all bloomed together, 
Save one who tried to hide herself, 
And drooped, that pleasant weather. 

" A robin that had flown too high, 
And felt a little lazy. 
Was resting near a buttercup 
Who wished she were a daisy. 



BUTTERCUPS. • 25 

" For daisies grew so straight and tall I 
She always had a passion 
For wearing frills around her neck 
In just the daisy's fashion. 

" And buttercups must always be 
The same old tiresome color; 
While daisies dress in gold and white, 
Although their gold is duller. 

" * Dear Robin,' said the sad young flower, 

* Perhaps you 'd not mind trying 
To find a nice w^hite frill for me, 

Some day when you are flying.' 

" * You silly thing,' the robin said, 

* I think you must be crazy ! 
I 'd rather be my honest self 

Than any made-up daisy. 

" ' You 're nicer in yoar own bright gown ; 
The little children love you : 
Be the best buttercup you can, 
And think no flower above you. 

*' * Though swallows leave us out of sight, 
We 'd better keep our places ; 
Perhaps the world would all go wrong. 
With one too many daisies. 



26 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

" ' Look bravely up into the sky, 
And be content with knowing 
That God wished for a buttercup 
Just here, where you are growing.' " 




Locust, 




Banner, wings, 
and keel. 



Pea-blossom. 



Ten stamens, and 
pod-shaped pistil. 



Leguminosas. 



CHAPTER FOURTH. 



PEAS AND CLOVER. 



TT7E may think of an army with banners 
when we look at a bunch of fluttering 
sweet peas, or see the wistaria hanging grace- 
fully over a stone wall. These blossoms belong 
to the papilionaceous, or butterfly, branch of the 
Leguminosae. As if in response to the name^ 
a child once called a butterfly ^' a flying flower/* 

Among the members of the family are the 
pea, bean, clover, and locust. 

The pea has a small calyx, and a corolla of 
five petals. One of them, the standard or ban- 
ner, is so erect that every blossom seems to carry 
its flag, which, in many cases, is as bright and 

varied as our own " Stars and Stripes; " surely, 

3 



30 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

if the rose becomes our national flower, the sweet 
pea must be our flag-bearer. At the sides of the 
banner petal are two wings, carrying between 
them a perfect keel. This is formed by ten sta- 
mens united around a pod-shaped pistil, which 
resembles a long canoe, satin-lined and water- 
proof. Flowers thus formed are so beautiful 
that it will repay us to examine their parts with 
a pocket microscope. 

The bright banner petal attracts the insect, 
which alights suddenly on the keel and bursts 
it open; and while the now freed stamens 
dust the little creature with pollen, it enjoys 
its dinner. 

In visiting the fields in the evening with a 
lantern, it is curious to study the changes which 
have come over some of the flowers. Blossoms 
which greet us in the day-time are drooping 
and nodding, some even looking as if they 
w^ere fast asleep. We do not know the reason 



PEAS AND CLOVER. 3 1 

for this; perhaps it is to avoid the dew and 
the night insects. The family of the Legumi- 
nosae is indeed a drowsy one, and the clover, 
its most sleepy member. The blossoms hide 
themselves nightly beneath the leaves, but in 
the morning they straighten up again, and are 
wide-awake all day. 

Many fanciful stories are told of four-leaved 
clover, — one that it will enable its wearer to 
see the fairies ; and yet another that if a lover, 
on leaving his sweetheart for a far country, will 
wear the leaf in his shoe, he will surely come 
again. Truly good luck it brings to him who 
finds it. Yet it often conceals itself, as if to 
play hide-and-seek, and many fail to discover its 
lurking-place. Have you, too, not tried and 
been disappointed ? 

Belonging to another division of the Legumi- 
nosae, is the sensitive plant, surely the irritable 
member of the family, for it closes its leaflets 
at our slightest touch. 



32 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

Insects are very fond of the Leguminosae. 
How strange seems the instinct that through all 
ages has led them to select their food from 
certain flower families, and to avoid those that 
they do not like ! Hovering about the blos- 
soms in gay dress and apparent disorder, 
they were really making the most careful 
divisions of the plants long before books were 
written. '' Prehistoric botanists," Gibson calls 
them. 

The tendrils of the Leguminosae, like those 
of other flowers, seem almost human in their 
action; they climb, seeking a support; they 
try one, — if it prove w^eak, they swing loosely 
around it; and on they reach until a proper 
twig is found, and to this they firmly cling. 
The bean and hop always turn in different 
directions, one to the right, the other to the 
left, and no human power can make either 
change its course. 



PEAS AND CLOVER. 33 

The Leguminosse are found everywhere ; in 
the Holy Land '' the husks that the swine did 
eat," with their great pods, belong to this 
family. 

Wherever we may wander in the summer, 
we shall surely find some of the blossoms with 
their characteristic banner-wings and keel ; and 
as we shell the beans for dinner, or put the 
fragrant clover into our linen press, or gather a 
bouquet of sweet peas, we may examine very 
fully both flowers and fruit 

" After dandelions, buttercups, 
And after buttercups, clover ! 
One blossom follows another one, 
Over, and over, and over. 
And the sweet, satisfying green, 
Is round about them all, 
First to be here in the spring-time. 
Staying last in the fall. 
Just as God's love is first and last, 
With human loves between. 
Successive blossoms which he sends. 
Through his all-present green. 



34 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

" After dandelions, buttercups, 
Then the daisies and clover ; 
One blossom follows another one, 
Over, and over, and over. 
But oh ! behind, beyond, around, 
Between them and above, 
Rises the satisfying green 
Of everlasting love." 




Section of 
capsule. 



Capsule. 




Pansies. 




Violaceae. 



CHAPTER FIFTH. 

VIOLETS. 

They 're hastening up across the fields, 

I see them on then' way ! 
They will not wait for cloudless skies, 

Nor even a pleasant day, 
For Mother Earth will weave and spread 

A carpet for their feet ; 
Already voices in the air 

Announce their coming sweet. 

Lucy Larcom. 

^T^HE Violaceae may surely boast as long a 
name as any flower family ; yet, notwith- 
standing this claim to equality with statelier 
blossoms, all the members are very coy and 
timid, — and so they have earned for them- 
selves the winning title '* modest," the world 
over. After the cold winter we wait impa- 



38 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

tiently for April, sure that she will bring to 
us the wild violets in the fields and under the 
hedges. Sometimes they are so hidden by 
their hooded leaves that we first detect them 
by thejr perfume ; when they do greet us, it 
is with a daintiness and loveliness peculiar 
to themselves. The poet Herrick, who was 
always writing about blossoms, says quaintly: 

'' Welcome ! maids of honor ! 
Ye do bring in the Spring, 
And wait upon her. 
She has virgins many, 
Fresh and fair ; yet you are 
More sweet than any." 

The Violaceae wear always the same form of 
dress, and it is a graceful costume, all their own. 
We see this whether we examine the proud 
pansy, or pensee, regally attired in purple and 
gold, or her shy little sister of the woods in a 
simple gown of pale blue. The five sepals, with 
ear-shaped lobes, are attached to the five petals : 



I 



VIOLETS. 39 

of these, the broadest and gayest is over two of 
the sepals; each of the next two petals, colored 
alike, rests on its own sepal; while the other 
pair, plainer in color, are both attached to one 
sepal. This arrangement gives rise to one 
of the German names for the pansy, " the 
little step-mother." The largest and brightest 
petal is supposed to be the cruel mother, who 
dresses gayly and seats herself haughtily on 
two chairs ; on the two sepals beside her are 
seated her own children, while the two plainly 
dressed little step-children are huddled together 
on one seat, or sepal. 

In the pansy the largest petal is the most 
brilliant, and it carries at its base a spur, or we 
may call it a pot, of delicious honey. With its 
showy yellow centre this petal makes a light- 
house for the insect, showing it where to strike 
for the honey-pot. Insects prove themselves 
excellent little mariners, steering with straight 



40 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

course for the centres of the flowers while busy 
in their fertilizing work. The stamens of the 
Violaceae are usually broad, their anthers united 
around a club-shaped style. The ovary, when 
cut open, appears through the microscope like 
a tiny bird's-nest filled with eggs. Such is the 
simple dress, alike in form, though different in 
coloring, worn by the Violaceae. 

The Arabs, with gentle courtesy, liken the 
eye of a beautiful woman to a violet ; and in 
both art and literature many illustrations are 
suggested by the blossom. Mythology, too, 
has woven it into a pretty legend; it tells 
us that lo, the daughter of Atlas, in fleeing 
from Apollo was changed by Diana into a 
violet, and that she always hung her head be- 
neath her hooded leaves to avoid the scorch- 
ing glances of Phoebus. 

History pays many tributes to the Violacese. 
*' Violet-crowned Athens " always gave to the 



VIOLETS. • 41 

blossom the first place in her floral wreaths; 
and the Romans, on the '' Dies Violaris," 
decorated the tombs with violets. Pliny speaks 
of their virtue as a medicine, and their use in 
all ages proves the truth of his words. The 
blossom seems very unlike ambitious Napo- 
leon, but he loved it, and was often called 
*' Corporal Violet; " and when, after his exile to 
Elba, loving hearts turned toward him, ladies 
wore violets, and sketches were circulated, in 
which the face of the Emperor appeared sur- 
rounded by petals. 

Wordsworth and Tennyson, in some of their 
sweetest verses, express their love for the 
violet; and the poem by Louise Chandler 
Moulton, which we add, is always redolent of 
the ^'shy little blossom." 

" I found a shy little violet root 

Half hid in the woods, on a day in spring ; 
And a bird flew over and looked at it too, 
And for joy as he looked, began to sing. 



42 A BUNCH OF WILD PXOWERS. 

" The sky was the tenderest blue above, 

And the flower like a bit of the sky below ; 
And between them the wonderful winds of God 
On heavenly errands went to and fro. 

" Away from the summer and out of the South 
The bird had followed an instinct true, 
As out from the brown and desolate sod 

Stepped the shy little blossom with eye of blue. 

" And he sang to her, in the young spring day, 
Of all the joy in the world astir; 
And her beauty and fragrance answered him, 
As the Spring and he bent over her." 




Apple blossom and fruit. 



Rosaceas. 



CHAPTER SIXTH. 

ROSES AND ROSE LEGENDS. 

T7LOWER families have their gay seasons, 
and roses choose the early summer 
months, in which to appear in their brightest 
dress; for always 

"June, with her cap crowned with roses, 
Stands in her hoHday dress in the field." 

Among the Rosacese we find many of our 
best-known flowers, one of which is the fra- 
grant apple-blossom. Its pink and white petals 
are short-lived ; and when they fade, the sepals 
of the green calyx close around the central 
pistil, and the tiny, urn-shaped ball, gorging 
itself with pulp, commences to swell, first into 

the little green apple with which small children 

4 



46 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

are often too sadly familiar, and later into a 
large, ripe, luscious fruit. 

Some kinds of berries belong to this family. 
After the flower fades, a quantity of small, one- 
seeded pistils, or carpels, ripen into pulpy seed- 
bags, and in one strawberry we eat a bunch 
of little red fruits, each holding its straw- 
colored seed ; in the raspberry and blackberry 
the bags are in the form of balls or knobs. 
Birds eagerly peck at these seeds in their pulpy 
deposits, and often carry them away and plant 
them in distant regions. The fragrant, luscious 
Rosaceae have many insects devoted to them. 
There is a special moth which hovers about 
apples and cherries ; and unfortunately it knows 
them as well as we, always selecting these fruits 
in which to deposit its eggs. 

Among the numerous blossoms, the wild rose 
shall be our typical flower, for in it we find many 
family traits. Its calyx holds five bright petals; 



ROSES AND ROSE LEGENDS. 47 

within these a circle of golden-tipped stamens 
surround the pistils or carpels. The fading flower 
gives place to the ripening fruit, which in time 
becomes a hip. The contrast, between the wild 
rose in its purity and innocence, and its gaudy 
sister of the garden, is striking; the latter is so 
changed by cultivation that many of its stamens 
are turned to petals, while others are in a state 
of transition. In the green rose, stamens have 
turned not only into petals, but also into leaves. 
It seems very difficult to decide about our 
national flower. Committees have been ap- 
pointed from societies of florists and from 
educational associations, and even children in 
the public schools have cast their votes. Eng- 
land has her rose, Scotland her thistle, Ireland 
her shamrock, and France her lily; and surely 
our great Republic should not have delayed 
so long before choosing a flower. Some have 
selected the pansy, others the trailing arbutus, 



48 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

and yet others the golden-rod. The last is 
a true emblem of democracy, for it grows 
everywhere, careless of soil and surroundings ; 
and being a Compositae, every stem holding 
tiny florets, it seems fitly to represent '' many 
States in one." Yet, with all that can be said 
in its favor, the rose thus far has claimed the 
most votes. All honor to our beautiful queen 
of the field and the roadside ! 

It is said that nowhere have roses bloomed so 
luxuriantly as in China; and the gardens of the 
Emperor of the ^' Flowery Kingdom " are most 
gorgeous. A large revenue is yearly obtained 
from rose-water, and it is used only by the 
nobles. Among the poorer classes, rose-leaves 
are sought as amulets, and a bag of them hung 
over the door is said to keep away evil spirits. 
Rose-water is sent from Persia to all parts of 
the world; and from Syria, the ''Land of 
Roses," comes both the Damask rose and the 



ROSES AND ROSE LEGENDS. 49 

Damson plum, each taking its name from 
Damascus. 

There are many stories and legends about 
the rose, for it is perhaps used in history, art, 
and literature more than any other flower. 
Greeks and Romans made it their special 
emblem of pleasure. We are not sure of the 
origin of ''sub rosa," but we know that at the 
Roman feast, garlands were festooned over the 
table, and any secret told beneath them must 
never be repeated. Nero caused showers of 
roses to be sprinkled over his guests, and the 
even more horrible Heliogabalus sometimes 
suffocated his enemies w^ith the petals. 

In English history, in the fifteenth century, 
we read of the terrible Wars of the Roses, in 
which red and white roses were the emblems ; 
and the strife ended only w^hen Henry the 
Seventh united the rival Houses of York and 
Lancaster. 



50 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

From such scenes we turn with pleasure 
to saintly legends ; for in art the rose is the 
emblem of love, wisdom, and innocence. The 
Virgin is *' The Rose of Sharon ; " and about 
the lives of Saints Cecilia, Dorothea, and 
Elizabeth cluster sweet stories. Saint Cecilia, 
the patroness of music, invented the organ, — 
by which instrument alone could she express 
the music of her soul. Through her influence 
the noble Valerian was converted, and after his 
baptism they knelt together, and were crowned 
by an angel with immortal roses, which bloom 
only in paradise. 

The story of Saint Cecilia seems very real 
when we visit her tomb, and the scene of her 
martyrdom, in the church at Rome which bears 
her name. Again we feel her influence as we 
gaze at Raphael's picture at Bologna, where, 
dropping her instruments of earthly music, she 
is entranced by the heavenly. 



ROSES AND ROSE LEGENDS. 5 1 

•'* Glory celestial o'er thee shall play, 
Roses eternal thy crown for aye." 

Saint Dorothea was another Roman maiden, 
and when asked, as she was about to be mar- 
tyred, to give to a gay young friend some 
fruits from the garden of paradise, she sent a 
basket given her by an angel, holding three 
roses and three apples, and Theophilus was 
converted. 

But perhaps the romance of roses in the 
legend of Saint Elizabeth of Hungary is love- 
liest of all. She was good to the poor, but her 
husband Ludwig did not care for them. When 
he was absent, she devoted herself to charitable 
works. One day, when taking food to the hun- 
gry, Ludwig approached and asked what she car- 
ried. She pressed her robe very closely around 
her, and lo ! when she opened her skirt, it was 
filled with exquisite red and white roses : for 
a miracle had produced them from the bounty 



52 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

which she was carrying to the sick. Then a 

halo of glory surrounded Elizabeth ; Ludwig 

took a rose, and went on his way, pondering 

on the mercies of God. 

Literature is full of the love and sentiment 

that cluster around the rose; and Herrick's 

little poem, — 

" Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, 
Old Time is still a flying," — 

brings to the maiden of to-day as true a warn- 
ing as to the one of two hundred years ago, 
to whom he dedicated so many blossoms. 

We travel through the Trossachs in June, 
and find 

" The rose, in all her pride, 
Painting the hollow dingle's side" 

as profusely as when Scott described it in 
'' The Lady of the Lake," through which poem 
the perfume of ''wild rose, eglantine, and broom " 
will ever linger. 



ROSES AND ROSE LEGENDS. 53 

In closing our sketch, we lay aside all art 
and sentiment, and, with the children of a 
hundred years ago, draw a lesson from quaint 
Dr. Watts : — 

" How fair is the rose ! what a beautiful flower ! 
The glory of April and May ! 
But the leaves are beginning to fade in an hour, 
And they wither and die in a day. 

" Yet the rose has one powerful virtue to boast 
Above all the flowers of the field ; 
When its leaves are all dead, and fine colors are lost, 
Still how sweet a perfume it will yield. 

*' Then I '11 not be proud of my youth or my beauty, 
Since both of them wither and fade. 
But gain a good name, by well doing my duty, 
That will scent, like a rose, when I 'm dead." 




Wild Geranium, or Crauesbill. 
Geraniacece. 




Shepherd's-purse, with pouch- 
shaped pod, called a silicle. 
Cruciferce. 




Brunella, with lipped-corolla. 

LabiaUe. 




Mustard blossom, Avith creeping rootstock, 
and its ripened pod, called a silique. 

Cruciferce. 



Some Practical Blossoms. 




Trailing Arbutus 
Ericacece. 




hickweed, with star-shaped blossom. 
CaryophyllacecE . 




Wild Carrot blossom. 
Umbelliferce. 



Some Practical Blossoms. 



CHAPTER SEVENTH. 

SOME PRACTICAL BLOSSOMS. 

OOME flowers cannot call to their aid 
poem or legend to make them inter- 
esting, but they are so useful that we admire 
them, and have added a few, feeling sure that 
they will be recognized as old friends, we meet 
them so constantly in our country rambles. 

Almost anywhere, in the grass or by the 
roadside, the short, close spike of the purple 
brunella lifts its quaint head. The word comes 
from the German for '' quinsy,'* and the French 
have a proverb, — ''No one needs a surgeon who 
keeps prunelle." We, too, know its value, and 
call it '' self-heal," or '' heal-all.'* The Labiatae 
family, of which it is a member, is a very im- 



60 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

portant one, and it has furnished the world 
with many flower doctors. It claims among 
its blossoms all the mints ; and oils and drugs 
from them fill the medicine-chests of many- 
old-fashioned country households. Milton in 
his L'Allegro speaks of 

" Herbs and other country messes 
Which the neat-handed Phyllis dresses/* 

In these Labiate flowers the corolla is lipped, 
resembling the mouth of an animal ; from 
between the lips dangle the stamens, and the 
fruit holds four tiny nutlets. The stem is four- 
sided, and the flower has an aromatic odor. 

Another blossom, the mustard, we add to our 
bouquet, and also to the medicine-chest, for 
even its name means '' to blister." Although 
so democratic that we often find it revelling 
in heaps of ashes and broken glass, yet it is 
graced by the attractive family name of the Cru- 



SOME PRACTICAL BLOSSOMS. 6l 

ciferae, '' cross-bearers," the four petals being 
arranged like a Maltese cross. The pale yellow 
flower is known easily, whether we find it tall 
and loosely branched, or smaller and gathered 
into a close cyme. There are always four 
petals and six stamens ; the fruit is a kind of 
pod, and the stem has a pungent taste. An in- 
teresting member of the Crucifera^, to be found 
everywhere, is the shepherd's-purse, so called be- 
cause its tiny pod resembles a leathern pouch. 

Among all flower families, resemblances in 
form and habit are constantly suggesting names 
for blossoms and fruits. The wild geranium, for 
example, whose showy blossoms brighten the 
woods and shaded roadsides in the early sum- 
mer days, takes the name of *' crane's-bill," from 
the fancied resemblance of its fruit to the beak 
of a bird. And chickweed is *' stellaria," be- 
cause of its exquisite, star-shaped flower. How 

thoughtlessly we pass this so-called weed ! and 

5 



62 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

yet its every tiny blossom is as wonderful an 
evidence of divine power as the brightest star 
in the sky. Cool and shaded places are its 
chosen haunts, and it is a tempting treat for 
the chickens and chickadees. 

Another flower family, difficult to examine in 
detail, is styled the Umbelliferae, because the 
flowering is so umbrella-XxV^. The wild carrot, 
one of its blossoms, is known to every one. 
How crisp and fresh we find it in the earliest 
weeks of summer; and then, later, how forlorn 
it looks by the roadside, scorched by the blaz- 
ing sun, and so covered by dust, that it loses 
entirely the cobwebby appearance which has 
given to its delicate flowers the title, '^ Queen 
Anne's lace." As the carrot goes to seed, its 
clusters become concave, and resemble very 
closely a bird's-nest; the farmers call it a 
vicious weed, for it is almost impossible to 
root it out. There are many varieties of the 



SOME PRACTICAL BLOSSOMS. 63 

Umbelliferae ; among them are caraway, parsley, 
and parsnips. 

Our chapter has been so full of pungent 
odors and medicinal flavors that we must close 
it with a bit of sweetness brought to us by the 
flowers of the Ericaceae, or Heath family. 

Among them is the trailing arbutus, always 
the glad sign that '' the winter is past," and 
** the time of the singing of birds is come.*' 
In New England it is the mayflower, the first 
flower to welcome the Pilgrims after their bleak 
and desolate winter. 

In what a sweet poem has our '' Quaker 
Poet," himself a lover of bloom and beauty, 
woven the story of the joy and gratitude of 
our sturdy forefathers : — 

"Yet, * God be praised ! ' the Pilgrim said, 
Who saw the blossoms peer 
Above the brown leaves, dry and dead, 
* Behold our mayflower here ! 



64 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

" ' God wills it here our rest shall be, 
Our years of wandering o'er ; 
For us the " Mayflower " of the sea 
Shall spread her sails no more/ 

" O sacred flowers of faith and hope, 
As sweetly now as then 
Ye bloom on many a birchen slope, 
In many a pine-dark glen." 

In flowers of the Heath family the corollas 
have either four or five lobes, or the same 
number of petals, and either five or ten sta- 
mens ; while the tiny ovaries already suggest 
in shape and number of cells the ripened blue- 
berry or wintergreen berry. 

A prominent member of the family is the 
heather, and its purple is a characteristic fea- 
ture in the Scottish landscape. The moun- 
taineer sleeps on his couch of heather boughs; 
with them he thatches his roof, and he uses the 
peat for fuel. Irving, in describing a ramble 
with Scott, tells of the poet's fondness for the 



SOME PRACTICAL BLOSSOMS. 65 

gray mountains and wild border country of his 
native land, and quotes him as saying, — 

'' When I have been for some time in the rich 
scenery about Edinburgh, I begin to wish my- 
self back again among my own honest gray 
hills ; and if I did not see the heather at least 
once a year, / tkink I should die ! " 




Plant, with insect 
partner. 



Fringed Gentian, 
Gentlanacece. 



Water Lily, 

Nymphacece. 



'\Av3 





Venus's Fly-trap, 
^^i^^^^^X Droseracece, 



Mountain Laurel, 
Ericacece, 



Orchid, 
Orchidacece. 



Some Plants with Curious Habits. 



CHAPTER EIGHTH. 

CURIOUS THINGS ABOUT PLANTS. 

T)LANTS have very curious habits, and really 
seem to sleep, eat, drink, breathe, and 
turn to the light with almost the instinct of 
animals; and birds and insects are their partners. 
Some are so large that a hundred people may 
stand on one stump; others so small that we 
examine them through a microscope. Again, 
some live thousands of years, and others but a 
few hours. Even a brief study will reveal a 
few of their strange ways ; for Nature is often 
frolicsome, playing astounding freaks. 

Many plants are unerring w^eather prophets, 
for their closing is a sure sign of rain; and as 
Linnaeus says, some serve as time-pieces, since 



JO A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

we may almost tell the hour of day by watch- 
ing their changes. For example, — the morn- 
ing-glory opens at dawn, the star of Bethlehem 
at ten, the ice-plant at noon, the four o'clock, 
of course, at four; and the water lily closes at 
sunset, sinking beneath the water for the night, 
and then floating upward, and opening again in 
the morning to greet the new-born day. 

Plants which open at night are commonly 
white or yellow, and have usually a strong 
fragrance, so that they are easily found by 
the insects that are prowling around. It is 
fascinating to watch their unfolding, slowly, 
as if impelled by an unseen force. The moon- 
flower expands in a few seconds ; while the 
petals of the evening primrose are so hooked 
into the calyx that it sometimes takes much 
longer to free themselves, and spread out into 
full beauty. 

We examine now some of the *' beef-eaters," 



CURIOUS THINGS ABOUT PLANTS. /I 

as they are often called. Among these, the 
pitcher-plants always excite wonder; along the 
edges of the pitcher are honey-glands, just 
arranged, it would seem, to attract the care- 
less insect. Its story is short; it alights, is 
lured into the trap, from which it never escapes. 

In the island of Ceylon these plants are 
named '' monkey cups," because the little 
pitchers, which are kept open when it rains, 
are useful to the thirsty monkeys; for they 
raise the lids most skillfully, and take a drink. 

The innocent-looking sundew is another snare ; 
but its beauty is often marred by the dead insects 
sticking to it. It has hairs fringing its edges, 
which exude tiny secretions of glutinous fluid; 
but these specks, glistening like dew-drops, 
prove both enticing and fatal to the confiding 
creature. We watch it gayly sipping the sweet- 
ness ; soon comes the struggle; the hairy ten- 
tacles close around it, — its fate resembling 



J2 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

that told in the woful story of " The Spider 
and the Fly." 

But of all '' beef-eaters," the ^'Venus's fly- 
trap " has the most ingenious contrivance for 
taking its prey. This is a curious trap at the 
end of the leaf, always ready for the hapless 
victim. The insect is drawn within, crushed 
to death, and quickly converted into juice to 
feed the plant. 

Cross-fertilization is one of the most remark- 
able things about the flowers. In very many 
of them the stamens are so situated that they 
cannot throw pollen over into the pistils; and 
so the insect, completely dusted with it, carries 
it sometimes from the stamens to the pistils of 
the same flower, and again to those of another 
of a similar variety, — for very often, as we 
know, flowers are fed with the pollen of their 
neighbors. Insects are always busy in this 
work, — their instinct, strange to say, showing 



CURIOUS THINGS ABOUT PLANTS. 73 

them that pollen must reach the stigmas, or 
ovules never can ripen into seeds. 

In many plants, Nature has arranged ingenious 
ways, by which insects are dusted with pollen 
while in quest of honey. The Kalmia, or 
American laurel has its anthers secreted in 
tiny pockets of the corolla; the touch of the 
insect suddenly releases them ; they spring 
forward, and dust at once both stigma and 
insect. 

Mountain plants are interesting in their 
habits. It is said that in Alpine regions the 
delicate fringed gentian turns back its petals 
with the sun, and shuts them with the snow- 
storm, and that often in one day it opens and 
closes several times. The snow-plant of the 
Yosemite regions is found in most gorgeous 
coloring eight thousand feet above the sea- 
level; the contrast between its brilliant red 
blossoms and the dazzling whiteness of the 



74 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

snow is most beautiful. Another contrast, 
found in mountain regions, though of much 
quieter coloring, is perhaps as striking. Some- 
times in partial clearings, charred and still 
retaining the odor of the burning, are found 
delicate ferns of the richest green, growing with 
the purple fireweed. Both spring right out of 
the dense blackness, all the brighter for their 
dismal surroundings. Surely we may learn the 
beauty of the cheerful word and loving deed 
put into a life shadowed by care and sorrow. 

It would be difficult for the child to study the 
habits of the smaller water-plants; but the way 
in w^hich the seeds of the pond-lily are dis- 
persed is both peculiar, and easy to know. 
The flower produces its seeds under water, in a 
thin bag filled with air, — this acting as a sort 
of float, or life-preserver. Directly this is re- 
leased from the mother plant, it rises to the 
surface and drifts away, driven by wind or 



CURIOUS THINGS ABOUT PLANTS. 75 

current; presently it bursts, the seeds sink into 
the mud, and there, hidden away, they make 
ready to germinate. 

A famous botanist has compared orchids to 
people, in their various mimicking forms and 
hues of dress. They are indeed surprising and 
charming, and may fitly be called ''the fancy- 
dress party of the floral world," since all are 
robed in such fantastic costumes, and act as if 
wishing to play some unusual part. In form 
they imitate many living things, such as ants, 
bees, and spiders ; and then, as if to resem- 
ble birds and butterflies more closely, some live 
high in the air, hanging loosely, and dangling 
their naked roots. The pouch of sweet honey 
is always provided for the insect partners which 
are so necessary to their growth. 

Many illustrations might be added, showing 
the peculiarities of plants; perhaps, however, 
enough has been said to incite young people 



^6 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

to study more earnestly the individualities of 
such flowers as come in their way. 

" In all places, then, and in all seasons, 

Flowers expand their light and soul-like wings, 
Teaching us, by most persuasive reasons, 
How akin they are to human things." 



< 




Net-veined 



I/' 

Palmate, with 
leaflets. 



Arrow. 



Needle. 



Leaves of Different Shapes and Kinds. 





Thread-like. 



Turnip-shaped 



Cone-shaped. 




Stems. 



Corm, or solid bulb. 




Branch, with terminal 
and lateral buds. 



Stems. 



Roots, Stems, and Branches. 



w= 



CHAPTER NINTH. 

GREEN THINGS GROWING. 
JE know full well that the 



" Pit, pat, patter, clatter, 
Sudden sun, and clatter, patter," 



of the April rains, will give us, in due time, the 
** bursting bud and smiling flower." Then is 

"The beautiful world, so fair and free. 
Full with its wonders to hear and see, 



Sweet to think it is ours indeed ! " 

The little bunch of flowers which we have 
examined should have a fit setting of growth 
and greenness : and we add a few facts about 
seeds, roots, stems, buds, and leaves. 

Seeds vary in size, from those as large as a 
cocoanut to others so tiny that we discover them 



82 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

only through the microscope; and yet ahvays 
the miniature plantlet is held within. Some- 
times this is kept alive for thousands of years, 
as has been proved by the germination of seeds 
dropped from mummy cases. 
John Keble says : — 

*' We scatter seeds with careless hands, 

And dream we ne'er shall see them more ; 
But for a thousand years their fruit appears 

In weeds that mar the land, or healthful store." 

Some seeds have hooks which hold them to 
the ground ; and others are carried by birds 
that plant .them in far-away climes. Many a 
flower, blossoming in some land to which by 
nature it is a stranger, owes its growth there 
to a gay and thoughtless bird. Seeds are very 
persistent things. A story illustrating this is 
told, in England, of the old Findern family. No 
record could be found of its history, either in 
stone or church annals ; but the Findern flowers 



GREEN THINGS GROWING. 83 

which Sir Godfrey had brought, hundreds of 
years before, on his return from the Crusade to 
the Holy Land, yet bloomed on the terrace 
of the ruined castle, and the sexton said, '' It 's 
all we have of the Finderns, — their flowers, — 
and do what we may, we cannot get rid of 
them." 

When the plantlet first bursts from the seed, it 
sends downward little roots, which perform two 
duties. They hold the plant firmly in place, 
and draw food from the soil through their 
hungry mouths. The roots grope in the earth, 
usually in gray working-dress, while leaves and 
blossoms are gathering beauty and vigor from 
air and sunshine. 

Some plants have one central root, shaped 
perhaps like a cone, turnip, or spindle, Vv^hile 
others have a bundle or net-work of far-reach- 
ing fibres. Sometimes roots are pushed out 
into the air; and many kinds live on other 



84 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

plants. The mistletoe gathers from the tree 
which it embraces the nourishment for its white 
berries and shining leaves. The thief-like 
dodder trails its yellow roots, and tangles them 
around everything which it meets, — a most 
uncomfortable plant to stumble upon in the 
woods. 

While the radicle sends roots down into the 
ground, the stem, bearing its one or two seed- 
leaves, pushes up, — its mission being to lift 
into the air and hold there leaves and flowers 
and fruits. Stems assume all positions, some 
even weakly creeping along above the ground, 
while others run beneath the earth, making 
there a kind of rootstock; and on this tubers 
may grow, — of which the potato is a common 
illustration. 

The bulb is a kind of rootstock, very short 
and thick, and sometimes enwrapped in scales. 
From the History of Holland, in the Seven- 



GREEN THINGS GROWING. 85 

teenth Century, there has come to us a famous 
story of tulip bulbs. It tells us that they 
had become so valuable that it was the 
fashion to speculate in them, to the neglect 
of all other business, and that at one time 
they sold even for five or six thousand dollars 
apiece. But the ''tulip mania," like other 
speculations, soon passed ; prices fell, and for- 
tunes were lost as speedily as they had been 
gained. But even now the finest tulip blos- 
soms that grace our American parks and gar- 
dens are raised from bulbs imported from 
Holland. 

Stems may be either exogenous, '' outside 
growing," or endogenous, '' inside growing." 
Those of the first kind are formed of bark, 
wood, and pith ; and we may know the age of 
a tree by its number of woody rings, for a 
new one forms every year. In such plants 
the leaves are usually net-veined, the parts of 



86 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

the flowers are in four or five divisions, and the 
seed carries in its embryo plantlet two seed- 
leaves. 

Endogenous stems, on the contrary, have no 
circles of different growths, but are cellular 
throughout, the leaves are usually parallel- 
veined, the parts of the flowers are generally 
in three divisions, and the seed carries but one 
seed-leaf If we examine through the micro- 
scope sections of the stems of a rose and of 
a lily, we may at once recognize the difference 
between exogenous and endogenous. 

The long stems of water-plants allow the 
blossoms to float carelessly in the sunshine, 
while they, acting like ropes, moor themselves 
to roots in the ground. 

Buds are of all kinds, from the scaly ones of 
winter, so carefully protected from the cold, to 
the naked ones w^hich appear in spring and sum- 
mer. They are supposed to spring from the 



GREEN THINGS GROWING. 87 

axils of the leaves ; but they play all kinds of 
tricks with the plant, appearing often in most 
unexpected places. 

A careful examination of leaves proves them 
to be most interesting ; and they especially at- 
tract us by their many and curious shapes. To 
the careless glance, all kinds may seem similar; 
but search for varieties, and the number is 
surprising. So strongly do the leaves resem- 
ble objects familiar to us, and from which 
they have borrowed their names, that we are 
at once impressed with the likeness. We easily 
discover the ^^ heart-shaped," '' spear-shaped,'' 
** wedge-shaped," and others, as shown on the 
page of illustrations. Leaves delight us, too, 
by their wonderful veining, and by their rich 
and varied coloring. 

So, if we will, we may study the '' green things 
growing," — seeds, roots, stems, buds, and leaves, 
— and if we could know the process which goes 



88 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

on in just one plant from the time it first springs 
from the ground until it deposits its own seed, 
we should indeed be wise. 
Tennyson wrote : — 

" Flower in the crannied wall, 
I pluck you out of the crannies ; 
Hold you here, root and all, in my hand, 
Little flower ; but if I could understand 
What you are, root and all, and all in all, 
I should know what God and man is." 




Beau. 





Bean, holdinor 
tiuv plaiitlei. 



The plantlet, with radicle or root, two seed-leaves or cotyledons, and 
plumule of two tiny leaves folded within them. 







Seeds showing embryo, surrounded by the starchy nourishment on 
which the tiny plantlets at first must feed. 



The Seed and its Plantlet. 



CHAPTER TENTH.i 



ONLY A BEAN. 



^T^HE Botany class gathered around the table, 
and ten pairs of bright eyes gazed in dis- 
appointment upon one dirty bean. 

The children had just commenced the study 
of flowers ; they had learned about petals, and 
stamens, and pistils, and to illustrate these had 
been shown bright pictures of roses and tulips ; 
and, of course, they expected something gay 
and striking every time. No wonder, then, that 
the speckled little thing on the table seemed 
most unattractive. 

'' We will talk about the bean to-day," said 
Miss Lansing, as she took her seat ; '' it is soiled, 

1 A few practical experiences of an i7nagina?y Botany 
class. 



92 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS 

for it has been for several days in a pot of earth, 
because I wished it to swell before showing it 
to you." 

'' It does not look as if it would be very in- 
teresting," said Florence, who, being the youngest 
member of the class, always felt privileged to 
express her candid opinion. 

'' Wait a little," replied Miss Lansing. '' I 
think that it will interest you more than any- 
thing that we have yet talked about." The 
class looked rather incredulous, but Miss Lan- 
sing proceeded. '' Do you know that safely 
tucked away in this bean is a tiny plantlet, 
all ready to push its way out and begin to 
grow? 

*' It consists of two little white leaves on the 
end of a miniature stem ; and when it bursts 
from the bean and sends down a root to hold 
it to the ground, it will be almost strong enough 
to care for itself. 



ONLY A BEAN. 93 

" The bean contains sufficient nourishment, 
however, to feed the plantlet until the roots 
take food from the earth, and the leaves reach 
up into the air." 

All the children now were gazing intently at 
the bean, as if they thought it would suddenly 
spring open by fairy magic. The " magic," how- 
ever, proved to be Miss Lansing's penknife; and 
ten heads were bent very closely together as she 
carefully cut the bean and revealed the plant- 
let. It was all there, just as she had said, — 
the leaves folded together on the end of a 
stout little stem. 

'' Does every bean carry a miniature plant 
inside?" exclaimed Elsie. 

*' Yes," replied Miss Lansing, ** and every 
other seed that grows holds one as well. 
If I had left it longer in the pot, it w^ould 
have burst from its prison and commenced to 

strike root; but it would have clung closely 

7 



94 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

to the bean, to be fed by it until it was able to 
seek its own food from air and earth. After 
that, the bean having done its work, and its 
starchy nourishment being all gone, its empty 
and useless coats would fall away." 

'' I suppose that the leaves are very white 
and weak when they first appear above the 
ground," said Harry. 

'' Yes," replied Miss Lansing, *' like children 
who live in cellars and crowded tenements, and 
whose little pale faces often show the need of 
fresh air and sunshine. 

We shall now examine our plantlet through 
the microscope ; and in doing this, we may see 
how perfect it is, even to the veining." And 
then another pleasure awaited the class ; for 
how many delights the microscope always re- 
veals to the young scientist. 

When the children had taken their seats, 
Florence exclaimed enthusiastically, ** This is, 



ONLY A BEAN. 95 

after all, quite the nicest lesson we have had, 
it has been so full of surprises." And her feel- 
ing was echoed by the other children. 

" Now," added Miss Lansing, '' if we had 
more time, we might continue our story of the 
bean until it grew and blossomed into papilio- 
naceous flowers, with their banners, wings, and 
keels, and later ripened into pods full of beans. 
Examine some seeds yourselves," she added; 
** seek the plantlet in a peanut, almond, or even 
in the tiny apple-seed, and you will find that 
it is always perfectly formed. Remember, too, 
that some of the things that we most admire 
in nature have as humble a covering as our 
plain little bean. Its story reminds me of a 
bit of poetry, which I will repeat to you in 
closing : — 

" A little flower so lowly grew, 
So lonely was it left, 
That heaven looked like an eye of blue, 
Down in its rocky cleft. 



96 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

" What could the little flower do, 
In such a darksome place, 
But try to reach that eye of blue. 
And climb to kiss heaven's face ! 

" And there 's no life so lone and low 
But strength may still be given 
From narrowest lot on earth to grow 
The straighter up to heaven." 



CHAPTER ELEVENTH. 

DOROTHY'S PROMISE, AND HOW SHE KEPT IT. 

T\OROTHY COLGATE always showed real 
interest and enthusiasm in everything 
which she undertook, and so proved a help- 
ful member of the Botany class. The days 
for this recitation were always hailed with 
delight, for it was so much more fascinating 
to all the children than battles, capitals, or 
multipHcation-tables. They little knew how 
many long names and how much difficult clas- 
sification Botany holds for older students ; they 
were not, however, just now to be troubled by 
these, their effort being simply to know a few 
families of flowers, and to seek resemblances 
among them. 



100 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

One day, at the close of the lesson, Miss 
Lansing announced that the next subject would 
be buds, and that perhaps the kind most inter- 
esting to study would be one from the horse- 
chestnut tree, but quite difficult to obtain, 
because the branches were so high. 

But Dorothy, who was never known to be 
daunted by difficulties, promised to have one 
ready for the next lesson, although she had 
not the slightest idea how the treasure could 
be obtained. So, doubtless, she felt somewhat 
uncomfortable, as any one should who has 
made a rash promise. She fancied, too, that the 
other girls looked amused ; for they knew full 
well that such a plump little maiden as Dorothy 
could never climb a high tree. How much she 
wished that, just for the sake of Botany, she 
knew a tall boy who would help her; but the 
little fellows in her block were all too young 
to be expert climbers, and the chestnut-bud 



DOROTHY'S PROMISE. lOI 

seemed as hard to be gained as the golden 
apples of which she had read, so carefully 
watched, in the garden of the Hesperides. 

As Dorothy walked home from school with 
the promise resting heavily in her thoughts, 
she looked longingly up into the great spread- 
ing tree at the corner, with its swelling buds 
on waving branches, '' so near and yet so far," 
far above the heads and hands of little people, 
and she sighed as she realized the hopeless 
state of affairs. 

The day for the next Botany talk soon 
arrived, and once more the children gathered 
about the library table. Of course the careless 
ones had forgotten to bring any specimens ; 
while the more thoughtful had some naked 
buds, such as are easily obtained from herbs 
and shrubs in the early days of spring. Miss 
Lansing was ready to begin her talk, but — 
where was Dorothy? neither child nor promised 



I02 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

chestnut-bud was there. As Miss Lansing was 
about to make some inquiries about her enthu- 
siastic young- botanist, Dorothy, wearing a tri- 
umphant expression, entered the room. Quickly 
she drew from her pocket something carefully 
wrapped in tissue paper; and opening the par- 
cel, she revealed to her friends a little branch, 
bearing on its end a great swelling horse-chest- 
nut bud. There were many expressions of sur- 
prise, and Miss Lansing was greatly pleased. 
But Dorothy was happiest of all, in her success 
and loyalty to promise. 

It may be best to explain at once by what 
means she had won her prize. On the previous 
afternoon she had gone shopping with her sister 
to purchase a wrap ; for girls, like flowers, put on 
new garments in the spring. As they walked 
through a side street leading to the broad 
avenue where the great shops were located, 
Dorothy saw a boy throw a stone into a tree, 



DOROTHY'S PROMISE. 103 

and lo ! as if in response to her wish, there fell 
at her feet just the bud for which she had so 
eagerly longed. Had a fairy touched those 
distant branches, just to aid a worried child 
in her trouble? No, indeed; the real, live, yet 
unconscious helper was running on his way, and 
fast disappearing down the street. 

Any one knowing Dorothy would have real- 
ized her delight ; for she was brave in carrying 
out good purposes, and in keeping her word. 

So here, at last, was the bud on the table, 
all ready for Miss Lansing; and it proved quite 
as full of interest as of leaves and blossoms, 
carefully tucked away within their downy cover- 
ing. The sticky scales, overlapping one another 
and closely glued together, were first removed ; 
then the wool pulled out; and warmly wrapped 
within were found such tiny leaves and blos- 
soms, — so delicate, yet so perfect! 

What a promise of summer just that one bud 



I04 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

seemed to bring; and how strange the chil- 
dren thought it that the trees, in their quiet 
brown winter attire, could keep stored away 
in the buds so much of greenness, ready to 
burst forth in the warm sunshine. 

It was quite natural that the children should 
wish to have the mystery solved, and Dorothy 
told her story. After hearing it, all resolved 
to keep their eyes open ; for who could tell 
how miuch of beauty they might see, if just one 
little bud was so lovely, or guess what unex- 
pected prizes might fall suddenly before their 
own feet! 

The bud had fulfilled its mission, for it not 
only proved an object of great attraction during 
the hour, but also a continual source of reve- 
lation afterwards; for as the days passed, the 
children never forgot to look up into the trees. 
With what wondering thoughts they saw the 
numberless buds gradually throw off their cover- 



DOROTHY'S PROMISE. 105 

ing, the scales scatter on the sidewalk, the soft 
wool blow into the air, and the leaves spread 
more and more ! Finally, the great widely 
branched trees appeared clothed in all their 
lacework of foliage, through which the sunshine 
flickered, and beneath which every passer-by 
found rest and refreshment. 

"Noiselessly the Springtime 

Her crown of verdure weaves, 

And all the trees on all the hills 

Open their thousand leaves." 




Dandelion, with dent-de-lion leaf, one floret, 
with strap shaped corolla. Stamens united 
around the pistil, and one akene or fruit, 
crowned with pappus. 





Golden-rod. 




Thistle. 



Eobin's Plantain, or Blue Spring 
Daisy, showing its parts. A 
strong family resemblance to 
the Dandelion. 



Compositae. 



CHAPTER TWELFTH. 

ONE LITTLE DANDELION. 

" We may shut our eyes, but we cannot help knowing 
That skies are clear, and that grass is growing ; 
The breeze comes whispering in our ear 
That dandehons are blossoming near." 

T\OROTHY'S success in finding a horse- 
chestnut bud had much impressed the 
other children in the class, and they all were 
looking for something equally attractive. Spring 
days were growing bright and warm, and the 
brief but beautiful flower stories of bud and 
blossom and ripened fruit were almost ready to 
be told by every swelling seed that was slowly 
preparing for the coming summer. 

Nellie Stevens was very fond of Botany ; and 



no A BU^XH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

besides, she must find something to be just Hke 
Dorothy, for Dorothy was ahvays her inspiration. 
But what might it be? She was, perhaps, hke 
the man who sought the world around for the 
four-leaved clover, and lo ! it was in his own 
dooryard. Nellie looked all over her own little 
world, bounded by a few city blocks; but she 
could find only grass and stones, and so reluc- 
tantly gave up her search. But one morning, 
just as she was starting for school, she saw in 
a distant corner of the yard one dainty little 
dandelion lifting up its head to catch the early 
sunshine. 

^'That's the first one I have seen," ex- 
claimed Nellie; ^^ I wonder if it will do! It's 
only a dandelion, but I really cannot find any- 
thing else." 

As she stooped to pick the tiny blossom, she 
wondered why dandelions grew at random, any- 
where^ and not in beds, like many other flowers. 



ONE LITTLE DANDELION. Ill 

She remembered, too, that she had been told 
that one could always be found sojjiewhere, in 
every month of the year. 

The blossom hung its head, and looked 
rather discouraged, as Nellie carried it to the 
class. 

'' How glad I am to see a dandelion ! " said 
Miss Lansing, as, glancing around the class, she 
discovered Nellie's blossom. ''It must be the 
first one of the season, and it will make a beau- 
tiful study, because it introduces us to the large 
order of the Compositae. 

'' The word is long, but it will be easy to un- 
derstand when I tell you its meaning ; it is this : 
every blossom belonging to the family is com- 
posed of a quantity of tiny flowers or florets, — 
and so Nellie has really given us a whole bunch 
of flowers. This family is the easiest of all to 
recognize at first sight, and the most difficult 
to study in detail ; and to it belong such familiar 



112 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

blossoms as the tansy, yarrow, aster, and sun- 
flower." 

Then the dandelion was taken to pieces : the 
involucre of green bracts which surrounded the 
receptacle was first taken off; and next, the 
tiny yellow florets were pulled from the disk, 
which then resembled a white kid button. Each 
child stuck a pin into one of the florets, and 
examined it through the microscope. Around 
each one was a pappus — pappus, by the way, 
means '^ gray beard." Next came the mono- 
petalous corolla, one end shaped like a strap, or 
ray, and the other holding in its tube a slender 
pistil closely surrounded by five stamens. The 
children, however, were obliged to take the 
stamens on trust, for they really could not dis- 
tinguish them. 

The parts of the florets were perfect, — the 
delicate pappus, the strap-shaped corollas, and 
the central pistils, each with its one ovule. 



ONE LITTLE DANDELION. II3 

" Star-decked little flower," Miss Lansing called 
the dandelion, '* lying in the grass like a spark 
from the kindly sun of summer." She then told 
them that the name came from '' dent-de-lion," 
from the fancied resemiblance of the edge of the 
leaf to a lion's tooth, and that it was a blossom 
that could teach a practical lesson, for it was 
always '' doing its best." Whether it blossomed 
on the well-kept lawn, or in the barren field, it 
seemed to be saying, — 

''Oh, I gild the fields afar, 
In the pleasant spring, 
Shining like a morning star, 
With the light I bring ! " 

Nellie felt that now was the time for her 
query, and she asked why dandelions were 
found in all kinds of places. 

" That is easily answered," replied Miss Lan- 
sing: '' like all wild flowers, they must do their 
own planting, and of course cannot arrange their 



114 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

seeds in an orderly way, like those planted by 
the gardener. The green involucre surrounding 
the blossom guards it most carefully, closing 
over it when rain is coming, and also at night, 
thus making the dandelion one of the sleepy 
flowers. The blossom lasts but a few days, and 
then the involucre closes over it for the last 
time, but opens a little later, and reveals as if 
by magic a fairy, fluffy ball. This is composed 
of many ripened seeds, each tipped with pappus. 
The ball is blow^n by the wind, or by a child: 
you have all tried it ; but I wonder if any of you 
have ever noticed how erectly each little seed 
floats away, carrying the pappus, like an um- 
brella, straight over its head ! and as it descends 
the point always first strikes the ground. So 
the seed plants itself anywhere, and in due 
time, with proper nourishment, more dandelions 
appear. 

'' This has been a long description," added 



ONE LITTLE DANDELION. II5 

Miss Lansing, '' and I am not through, even 
now; for I must read you a poem which I 
copied long ago from a magazine: — 

'' Gay little dandelion 
Lights up the mead, 
Swings on her slender foot, 
Telleth her beads, 
Lists to the robin's note 
Poured from above, — 
Wise little dandelion 
Cares not for love. 

" Cold lie the daisy banks. 
Clad but in green, 
Where in the Mays agone 
Bright hues were seen; 
Wild pinks are slumbering ; 
Violets delay ; 
True little dandehon 
Greeteth the May. 

" Brave little dandelion, 
Fast falls the snow, 
Bending the daffodil's 
Hauo^htv head low. 



Il6 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

Under that fleecy tent, 
Careless of cold, 
Blithe little dandelion 
Counteth her gold. 

" Meek little dandelion 
Groweth more fair. 
Till dries the amber dew 
Out from her hair ; 
High rides the thirsty sun, 
Fiercely and high, — 
Faint little dandelion, 
Closeth her eye. 

" Pale little dandelion. 
In her white shroud, 
Heareth the angel breeze 
Call from the cloud ! 
Tiny plumes fluttering. 
Make no delay ! 
Little winged dandelion 
Soareth away." 

Helen L. Bostwick. 

'' Oh, how lovely ! " said Dorothy ; '' what 
a poetic flower the gay and true and brave 



ONE LITTLE DANDELION. IT/ 

little dandelion seems to be ! are there any 
others like it? " 

''Yes, many more," said Miss Lansing; '' be- 
cause the family is very large. From the time 
we find the mouse-ear everlasting of the early 
spring, until the asters and golden-rod tell us 
that September days are here, there are always 
the Compositse growing along our path, and each 
member has something in it to claim our notice ; 
the golden-rod always seems ready to kindle its 
fires, but not to go." 

''Is not the thistle a composite flower?" 
asked Katharine. 

'* Yes," replied Miss Lansing, " a most per- 
sistent one, and a terror to all other growth ; 
like the dandelion, it scatters its seeds to the 
wind, and takes root anywhere. 

" ' A million stubborn, bristly things 

From one small seed with filmy wings.' 

But the member of the family whose praises 



Il8 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

have always been sung is the daisy, or day's- 
eye. The French call it the '' marguerite," 
from its resemblance to a pearl. 

*' Have you ever heard the lines, — 

" ' A gold and silver cup, 
Upon a pillar green, 
Earth holds her daisy up 
To catch the sunshine in. 

The children, with dehght. 

To meet the daisy run ; 
They love to see how bright 

She shines upon the sun. 
Like lowly white-crowned queen, 

Demurely doth she bend, 
And stands with quiet mien, 

The little children's friend.' 

**I always liked these verses, for they describe 
so well the flower, and the love which all chil- 
dren have for it. 

**01d Chaucer, the father of English poetry, 
who lived long ago in the fourteenth century, 
wrote, — 



ONE LITTLE DANDELION. II9 

*' * Above all flowers in the mede 

That I love most, those flowers white and rede, 
Soche that men callen daisies in our town.' " 

The children enjoyed poetry, but Miss 
Lansing's early English greatly amused them. 
"Now/' she added, ''let us have a little Scotch : " 
and she recited Burns's '' Wee, modest, crimson- 
tipped flower," — the poem that is as exquisite 
to-day as when it was first written; and she told 
them how Burns always kept his eyes open, and 
what lovely things he would find to write about 
just where he was ploughing in the field. 

'' I wish that we could find some * crimson- 
tipped ' flowers growing around here," said 
Anna, ''such as I saw in Dryburgh Abbey 
last summer," 

" There are just as pretty blossoms, if we 
only look for them," replied Miss Lansing; 
and she added a legend about the daisy, — 
that if a lover, when far from his lady, blows 



I20 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

the down gently in the direction of her home, 
every winged seed bears to her his message 
of love. 

The hour had been very full of the Com- 
positae and of poetry, and as the clock struck. 
Miss Lansing closed the talk by saying, ''You 
all will remember, I am sure, what I have told 
you about these poetic flowers ; but the verse 
which I think sweetest of all, and which I would 
like to have you learn, is one written by Words- 
worth in a child's album : — 

"' Small service is true service while it lasts; 

Of humblest friends, bright creature, scorn not one; 
The daisy, by the shadow that it casts, 

Protects the lingering dew-drop from the sun."' 




Meadow Lily. 




Tulip, with bulb. 



Easter Lily. 



Liliacece. 



CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. 

THE tiger-lily's MISSION. 

JENNIE MANSFIELD had a secret, — to 
her a very important one, — but not about 
Christmas, or somebody's birthday, or any of 
the things which girls usually choose; but it 
was about a flower, and only the tiger-lily 
growing near the fence had anything to do 
with it. 

This special flower had a history. The pre- 
vious summer Jennie had spent several w^eeks 
with her mother in a village among the moun- 
tains. Not far from the hotel lived a poor old 
lady who was ill, and Jennie had often been sent 
to her cottage to carry fruit and various other 
delicacies. When Mrs. Burton recovered, Jennie 



124 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

still continued her visits ; for there was much 
in the quaint and simple home, and patient, 
cheerful life of the occupant, to attract any 
child, — and outside was the flower garden, a 
sort of ''crazy-quilt" as to arrangement. 

Mrs. Burton was very grateful to Jennie for 
her visits, and wished to give her something in 
return, and so dug from the neglected garden 
one of the tiger-lily plants, with its orange- 
colored blossoms, that had been a source of 
brightness amid the gloom of a lonely life. 
*' Take it home with you," said Mrs. Burton; 
*^ it will grow wild for you, just as it has grown 
for me ; and it may make you think of me, 
and know that I'm grateful to you for all your 
goodness." 

Jennie was touched by Mrs. Burton's words, 
and accepted the gift, and carried it to the hotel. 
Later, when the summer days were over, the 
plant accompanied her, in a shining tin can, to 



THE TIGER-LILY^S MISSION. 125 

the bustling city; there it was placed in the 
garden, amidst elegant surroundings of tulips, 
pansies, and verbenas. 

Her brother Walter rather scornfully called 
it ''Jennie's coarse wild flower;" but she did 
not care, and loved it just the same. The first 
bud of the summer had now appeared, and 
Jennie's secret was to surprise the Botany class 
with something larger and brighter than any- 
thing that had been examined. So the lily 
was guarded every day with the greatest care ; 
the rarest orchid could not have been watched 
more zealously, or have had more refreshing 
sprinklings from the watering-pot. 

The reward came soon, for the flower bloomed 
gorgeously. Jennie picked and carried it tri- 
umphantly to the class, to the surprise and 
pleasure of the other children; they were not 
so familiar with the bright, nodding wild-blossom 

as with some of the gayly colored flowers seen 

9 



126 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

every day as they passed the windows of the 
florist. Miss Lansing, too, appreciated Jennie's 
efforts ; for it was not easy, within the Hmits of 
the great town, for the young botanists to find 
wild flowers. Jennie told the story of the moun- 
tain trip, Mrs. Burton's old-fashioned flower 
'' patch," and the growing in her own city 
yard. 

Then Miss Lansing said, as she held up the 
lily before the class: ^^ Did you ever think how 
serious is the mission of every wild flower? for it 
must fully nourish its tiny ovules, so that seeds 
may be produced. Here we have the stamens," 
she added, drawing from the flower six long, 
slender threads, carefully balancing on their 
ends the brown anthers, so delicately flecked 
all over with pollen. The central pistil was 
next taken out, — its ovules beautiful under the 
microscope, and its stigma well moistened with 
clammy juice. 



THE TIGER-LILY'S MISSION. . 12/ 

Then the class talked of the different ways 
in which plants are fed, and how exactly their 
insect partners always know just where to 
alight. Miss Lansing said that the lily-of- 
the-valley, which was probably a native of the 
Alps, could not grow wild in America, be- 
cause the insect which carried its pollen lived 
in Europe. 

Only the dressy yellow perianth of the lily 
remained to be examined, its six brightly dotted 
lobes forming a showy case for the stamens and 
pistil. 

The children were interested, too, in the cel- 
lular endogenous stem, and the parallel-veined 
leaves, — both family traits. Then they talked 
about other members of the Liliaceae, and found 
among them not only the aristocratic Easter 
lily, but the practical onion. 

Elsie looked perplexed, and said, ^^ I do not 
see how either a calla-lily or a water-lily can 



128 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

belong to the Liliaceae ; certainly they have not 
the family traits." 

'' You are right," was the answer; *^ somehow 
they have stolen their names, for they really 
belong to families with very different character- 
istics. The historic fleur-de-lis, too, — the na- 
tional flower of France, — belongs to the Iris 
family; its mediaeval name is traced to Saint 
Louis, for it was truly the ^ fleur-de-Louis,' — 
the king having worn it on his shield during the 
Crusade. There is also another familiar flower 
which easily deceives us: it is the dog-tooth 
violet; it comes early after the winter's snow, 
and, notwithstanding its name, it assures us with 
every nod of its golden blossom that // belongs 
among the Liliaceae. The tulip, however, is a 
true member of this family; its name signifies 
*a turban;' and in gay coloring, and in all its 
parts, we easily trace the resemblance." 

Miss Lansing then spoke of the honor that 



THE TIGER-LILY'S MISSION. 1 29 

has always been given the lily, both in art and 

literature, and quoted Miss Howitt's expressive 

words, — 

" Innocence shines in the Hly's bell, 
Pure as a heart in its native heaven." 

And as she showed them some art pictures, in 
which beautiful saints were bearing spotless 
lilies in their hands, she added: ^^ We always 
associate with these blossoms such helpful les- 
sons, that if there were to be sought among the 
flowers a minister preaching sermons of sim- 
plicity and gentleness, he would surely be found 
among the Liliacese. We do not know," she 
continued, '' to what flower Christ referred when 
he said, * Consider the lilies of the field : ' per- 
haps it was to the large purple anemone which 
grows everywhere in Palestine ; but we too may 
consider, as we gaze at any lily, and learn a 
lesson of faith and loving trust, as did the dis- 
ciples of nearly nineteen hundred years ago." 



I30 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

Miss Lansing paused ; the children were very 
quiet and thoughtful ; she had spoken of serious 
things, but not beyond their comprehension. 

Jennie's tiger-lily lay in pieces on the table, 
looking as wilted as any flower that has helped 
in the cause of science. But its mission had 
been accomplished: old Mrs. Burton, Jennie, 
the empty tin can, the city garden, and the 
secret had all played a part. And for a long 
time afterwards, whenever a lily was named, or 
seen blossoming, the thoughts of certain young 
people unconsciously turned to a particular 
flower on a round table in a sunny library. 





Jack-in-the-Pulpit, with corm and fruit. 



Calla Lily. 



Araceae. 



CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. 

A CLOSING SERMON. JACK IN THE PULPIT. 

TT was a gray, chilly morning, and demo- 
cratic little Jack sat in his high pulpit, on 
the edge of the damp old wood. Jack was a 
queer-looking declaimer ; his body, covered with 
tiny florets, was tipped by a long, dark, club- 
shaped head, and his face wore naturally a 
serious expression, as it projected above his 
pulpit of purple, striped with white. 

There were reasons which might have made 
Jack dark with envy on this particular Saturday 
morning. Beyond the fence skirting the edge 
of the wood where he g-rew, a waq-on had halted 
to rest the horses. It was filled with flowers to 
adorn some of the city pulpits on the approach- 



134 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

ing Sunday, and among them were several large 
calla-lily plants, the stalks of which were so high 
that the flowers seemed to look down in proud 
dignity upon everything else in the wagon. 

We assume, of course, for our story, that 
Jack was a very intelligent flower; he knew 
the characteristics of his own family, and he saw 
in these haughty callas a marked resemblance 
to himself, pulpit and all ! He recognized them 
as his aristocratic relatives, and knew at once 
that they bore with him the family name of 
Arum, or Araceae. 

But how gorgeously they were attired, and 
what a display they did make of themselves ! 
The beautiful golden spadix in the centre of 
each was enveloped in a large, pure-white 
spathe, — which, however, was not called a 
pulpit, for these flowers never preached ser- 
mons, but lived only for show; while he, plain 
little fellow, who by reason of his name was 



A CLOSING SERMON. 1 35 

always expected to be ready to make an 
address, was quite unknown, living quietly in 
his lonely home on the edge of the wood. 

The more Jack thought about the contrast, 
the crosser he must have grown, — that is, if 
flowers are like children; and soon he began 
to reason on this wise; *'It's too bad! these 
fashionable relatives of mine, who will not even 
deign to see poor little me, have never done 
anything for themselves ; and yet how beautiful 
they are, and in what ease and luxury they 
pass their lives, — planted and watered by the 
gardener, nourished with most tender solici- 
tude, kept in green-houses, and in cold weather 
wrapped in cotton ! Ah ! in comparison, how 
hard my own lot seems ! The corm from which 
I have grown did its work without the aid of 
florist or gardener, — sending out fibrous roots 
and drawing from the ground proper food to 
form the starch and acrid juice so necessary in 



136 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

my development ; then the scape and leaf- 
stalks, with their trifoliate leaves, appeared ; 
and, everything being ready, I mounted my 
pulpit in the centre of all : and here I stand 
in the wood, without the assistance of human 
hand/' 

While Jack was thus pondering, he had for- 
gotten his envious feelings, and had become 
not only reconciled to his humble fate, but, on 
the whole, rather proud of his own history. 
Just as he finished his soliloquy, the gar- 
dener's son ran into the field, saying, ** Just for 
fun, papa, let's add a few wild flowers to our 
load this time, for they will make a variety in 
church." 

''As you please," replied his father; ''gather 
some, and the ladies can use them if they 
choose." 

Willie quickly began his search, and soon dis- 
covered Jack, and made him at once the centre 



A CLOSING SERMON. 1 37 

of a small bouquet, which was placed in the 
wagon. 

At the end of the two hours' drive the other 
wild flowers were much faded ; but not so stout- 
hearted little Jack, who had completely re- 
covered his spirits, and was enjoying this unex- 
pected attention. He had never seen so much 
of the world before, and stood up bravely all 
the way, glancing timidly at his proud friends, 
whose faces, compared to his own, were cold 
and expressionless. Jack felt that this was to 
be his life-opportunity, and that now, if ever, 
he must distinguish himself He looked so 
cheerful and resolute, that when the time came 
to arrange the church flowers he was placed 
between two beautiful lilies, the contrast prov- 
ing most eff*ective. Doubtless Jack must have 
attracted some attention in church, but about 
that I am not sure. After the evening service 
the flowers were sent to a hospital, and placed 



138 A BUNCH OF WILD FLOWERS. 

in a ward where were several boys just re- 
covering from illness. With pale but pleased 
faces all welcomed the brightness ; but to one 
in particular the flowers brought a special 
blessing. He gazed long and intently at the 
bouquet; what was it that stirred recollections 
of by-gone days, of the home life and the 
rambles in the woods? Suddenly it all came 
to him : it was the sight of the Jack-in-the-pulpit, 
his mother's favorite flower. Many times he 
had sought these blossoms for her in the woods ; 
for he loved to hear her say that she liked to 
see the brave, sturdy little things preaching 
away in their pulpits. The boy had been sleep- 
less and discouraged ; but Jack had brought to 
him such sweet memories of pleasant things, 
that, gradually and without effort, he sank into 
the first restful slumber that he had known 
for days. 

He awoke refreshed and strengthened. An- 



A CLOSING SERMON. 1 39 

other glance at Jack once more recalled the 
past; and there came with the remembrance 
new strength and impulse for the future. 

Later in the week, when the nurse carried 
away the wilted flowers, the boy begged the 
then faded Jack, that he might press and keep 
it as a talisman against discouraged hours, — a 
reminder of the old days and a help for those 
to come. Jack had preached a simple sermon, 
but one that had given strength and courage 
to one who was weary and lonely. 

We, too, may learn, from just this one little 
flower, a lesson of earnest individual effort. 
Let us bravely try to do our duty every day, 
whatever our surroundings in life, and in some 
way a blessing will surely come at last. 



Unnumbered multitudes of flowers, it were in vain to 

name, 
Along the roads and in the woods will old acquaintance 

claim ; 
And scarcely shall we know which one for beauty we 

prefer, 
Of all the wayside fairies, clad in gowns of gossamer. 

Lucy Larcom. 



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